Out of the Haberdashery, Into the Paws
by Ladon's Breath
Summary: The Hat reflects on all the troubles the Hatter has led it into and realizes there is only one creature that truly loves it. From the Hat's point of view. CheshirexHat, Past HatterxHat


The Hat was not happy, not happy at all. A hat had only a few wants in life like a nice clean head to perch upon and a comfortable lifestyle, but even these things had become scarce for the Hat. The Hatter was not especially at fault for at least the first instance of this decay. The Hat had been enjoying itself atop shocks of curling orange hair when the Red Queen conquered Underland. In a blast of fire and smoke the Hat fell to the ground and smoldered there, hoping that it might be saved from a horrifically slow death. The Hat was stronger than most. Being set on fire could cause most hats to crumple into a quivering heap of blackened fabric, but the Hat knew the Hatter would come back for him, right? After all, the Hat was not actually owned by Tarrant, but merely made by him to be sold, although it had stayed around far longer than any headgear before it. Its assumptions came to fruition when the Hatter's pale face appeared in the cloud of smoke. His green eyes seemed blank and distracted as he lifted the Hat from the ground and placed it in its rightful position.

Disappointingly, the Hat was still smoldering and Tarrant had done nothing to prevent his headgear from burning into ash. The Hat almost hoped that the flame orange hair would catch fire, but in that case all hope would be lost for its own survival. Eventually, the painful smoking sores extinguished themselves and the Hat was left with nothing more than injured pride and a few charred patches.

It had been years since Horunvendush Day and the Hat had forgiven the Hatter. After all, he had just lost everything he loved from his job to his queen to his very mind. He had been understandably preoccupied and had probably put on the Hat as a matter of habit. However, more recently the Hatter hadn't been treating it so well. The Hat had endured more hardships than any piece of elegant clothing was meant to survive and it was sorely disappointed in its maker.

The Hat was happily sitting atop the Hatter's head as was its custom when Alice approached the tea party. Initially, it seemed there would simply be an additional party that the March Hare could throw things at and of whom the Hatter could ask his unanswerable riddles. However, the Red Queen's soldiers were on Alice's trail and soon interrupted the insanity of the tea party with their shouts and orders. The Knave in particular was quite self-important, though he lacked the intellect to recognize the idiocy of asking questions to mad people. Eventually, the soldiers left and the Hatter soon reached into the teapot to place Alice upon his hatband. The Hat was not entirely certain it liked the idea of someone walking all over it, but it decided this would be acceptable as long as Alice didn't stain its material.

Soon enough, the Hatter began to walk away from the party and he naturally wandered back to the setting of Horunvendush Day as he spoke with Alice. The Hat was reminded once more of that incident when it had come closest to destruction, and the ensuing chase by the returning soldiers of the Red Queen didn't make it feel any better. Although Alice had climbed off the Hat, when they reached the river the Hatter removed the Hat and placed Alice onto it once more. He warned her to hold on as the Hat's mind raced to conclude just what the Hatter had planned. He had become so unpredictable in his insanity, but when he pulled back his arm to give it some force the Hat knew all too well what was about to happen.

"You had better not! Don't you dare throw me into the dirt and grass over there," the Hat thought frantically as it wished it had the ability to telepathically communicate with its maker. It has no such luck and was soon sailing in dizzying rotations across the river. Alice's tiny fingers dug into the Hat's band like needles, pricking it painfully, before it made a rough landing in the grass. The Hat skidded over several feet and could only hope that it hadn't sustained any grass stains when Alice climbed off its brim and onto the ground. She grasped the Hat once more to lift it and crawl underneath its protective leather, though it tried its best to remain firmly anchored to the ground. The Hat was left alone in the cold with no comfortable head to sit upon and nothing to keep it from harm. It fumed and ranted at the Hatter and his utter disrespect for his wares.

"I am a hat for Mirana's sake! I deserve better than this." Phrases like "slurking urpal slackush scrum" seethed through the Hat's mind as it replayed the disgrace again and again. After all, hats had no need for sleep. All it could do was wait until someone came along to pick it up and hope that the person or animal or thing had a strong respect for the millinery arts. Meanwhile the Hat was also longing for the physical ability to do more than sit and in rare cases quiver. Beneath its protecting crown the tiny human who had led to this situation was fast asleep. The name Alice echoed in the depths of the Hat's thoughts as it consistently cursed the return of the girl. Though she was supposed to save Underland from its current troubles, she had only caused problems since her arrival. The Hat had been stained and had lost its coveted perch and for what? A girl who didn't even believe she could slay the Jabberwocky and thought she was in a dream.

The utter inanity of the entire situation caused great frustration for the Hat, which did not improve upon the following morning. A snuffling hound dog known as Bayard approached the Hat in a manner that caused it to wonder about the near future. The dog had been the one chasing Alice and if he wanted her now then the Hat would put up no resistance, although it couldn't have even if it wished. Bayard came closer and eventually shoved his wet nose under the Hat's brim, much to its chagrin. Dog mucus was not its preferred accessory, but once again it had no choice. Unfortunately, it seemed that the hound dog was now planning to help Alice so the Hat would not be getting its revenge any time soon. In an even worse turn of events Alice decided that she just had to return the Hat to Tarrant, which meant it was going to be carried in Bayard's mouth.

"Fuck no!" the Hat thought as it quivered violently with rage at this utterly humiliating form of transportation. Plus it would end up with its brim coated in dog slobber which was completely disgusting. But the dog clasped the Hat between his jaws, which was rather painful due to his teeth and rolling gait. By the time they reached the Red Queen's castle the Hat was fervently hoping it wouldn't have permanent puncture wounds from the journey. Alice climbed across the severed heads floating in the moat while the Hat fumed at its situation. Couldn't Bayard have dropped it by now? The Hat actually wanted to be on the ground at this point; anything to get out of this slobber-fest.

Alice completed her crossing and told Bayard to actually throw the Hat over the wall. The Hat did not want to go over the wall and it did not want to remain where it was. It wanted to be on a comfortable hat stand or seated upon a nice warm head. But no, the Hat was tossed over the wall into a garden where it hoped to avoid being attacked by flamingoes or hedgehogs. Alice, or Um as she had now dubbed herself, marched off with the Queen and her new gigantic stature in tow. The Hat remained unnoticed in the garden. It was terribly unhappy. Its wonderful leather had been skidded over grass, coated in dog spit, and was now tossed upon some more plants. Out in the open the Hat was prone to the dangers of nature from the weather to the animals and it did not like it. Yes, it was made to protect the head, but it was not meant to lie on damp ground and be nosed about by hedgehogs.

The Hat was no happier when Alice finally appeared to pick it up. If possible it probably would have slapped her or at least ranted for quite a while, but it couldn't and thus didn't. Instead it sat in Alice's hands wishing ill on her, Bayard, and the Hatter himself. They eventually reached Tarrant's room, where he was employed in making hats for the Red Queen, but the Hat did not get the respite of a warm head even then. No, the Hatter was having a mental breakdown and Alice just had to comfort him which meant the Hat ended up on the ground once more. This time it was among fabric scraps and bits of thread, but the floor was no more comfortable than the ground outside. After some nonsense about whether Tarrant was mad or not (one would think it was obvious), the Hat was finally returned to the Hatter's head just in time for the Knave to burst into the room with a hand of card soldiers.

Of course Tarrant insisted that Alice leave, while the girl refused to flee without him, despite the fact that he was chained in place. Mallymkun, the Dormouse, was rushing about as well trying to fight off the intruders. The Hatter masterfully tossed two bolts of fabric knocking out several cards, while Stayne and the remaining soldiers advanced. Tarrant picked up the dressmakers dummy to ward off blows from the Knave's blade and the Hat gripped the flame orange hair beneath it for dear life. Luckily, Stayne was intelligent enough to realize that attacking the Hat wouldn't help him at all, so it could sit relatively safely upon the Hatter's head assuming it didn't fall.

Suddenly, the fight paused when the Dormouse accidentally revealed Alice's identity. Immediately, she ran off to escape, while the Tarrant and Mallymkun were subdued and captured. The disheartened Hatter was placed in a cell and the Dormouse was caged, leaving little to no chance of escape. The Red Queen had ordered their executions and it seemed they were inevitable. The Hat was just as depressed by this turn of events since Tarrant had decided to remove it in his gloom. Now the Hat was sitting on a cold stone floor and being mistreated, again. It was so sick of all the issues it had been through. This was too much. Clearly, the Hatter had lost sight of any concept of personal appearance. Otherwise, he would have been taking care of his signature piece of clothing.

Interrupting this frustrated and disappointed mindset was the purr of a cat. There was only one cat in Underland, as far as the Hat knew, and certainly only one that could sneak into the Red Queen's castle. Slowly, the Cheshire Cat faded into view and floated through the bars of Tarrant's cell. He seemed to be interested in the Hatter's fate, but even more so in the Hat. Chessur curled about the Hat's crown before kneading it with his paws. The Hat sighed in pleasure as the cat's massaging toes loosened the kinks that had worked their way into the stressed leather. It had been a hard couple of days and Chessur seemed to know exactly what to do to make the Hat feel absolutely wonderful. In addition, the Cat heaped praises on the Hat and its looks. He truly longed to possess it and the Hat had no qualms about it. Finally, here was someone who actually believed the Hat ought to be treated well.

Of course, Tarrant refused to part with the Hat, despite his recent abuses toward it, citing his need to look good for his execution. Frankly, the Hat didn't care what the Hatter looked like when he died, especially if it meant he could leave with this much desired companion. However, the Cheshire Cat was unwilling to let the idea go and his grin soon grew wider as he thought up the perfect plan. He could wear the Hat and Tarrant could live, so all sides would be happy, including the Hat. Chessur informed the Hatter that he could shape shift and replace him for the execution. No one would know the difference and Tarrant wouldn't lose his head. The only condition was that the cat got to wear the Hat.

The Hatter agreed, although he disliked the idea of Chessur taking his Hat. However, it couldn't be happier. The Hat squirmed in delight as it was picked up and placed upon the soft gray and teal fur of the cat's head. The Cheshire Cat happily floated about in lazy circles as it passed the time before the execution. The Hat was so comfortable in this new perch. The cat's fur was certainly softer than any human hair it had ever sat upon and the cat's gentle floating lulled the Hat into a peace it had not felt in a very long time. Chessur was something special. He was the only one who could make the Hat feel better with the slightest of efforts. Though the cat was certainly a bit crazy, he was also quite soothing with his smooth voice and movements. But most importantly of all Chessur loved the Hat, cherished it, wished to care for it.

No one had ever acted that way toward the Hat, probably because none had truly realized the Hat's living nature. Despite the fact that many normally inanimate objects were alive in Underland, none had recognized the Hat's few signs of life. Even if the cat was not astute enough to realize that fact, he at least respected the Hat for its beauty and worth. He did more than any other had and the Hat could not help but love Chessur in return. A violent shiver went through the Hat as it did its best to caress the cat in a show of appreciation. Momentarily, the Cheshire Cat froze as he realized his headgear had moved through no fault of his own, or of any other. And with that moment it seemed fated that Chessur would know the Hat's secret and that the two of them should never be parted.

But that was not to be for the cat's rather flighty attention was soon directed to changing himself into the Hatter's form. The bang and clash of the prison doors announced the entrance some card soldiers who were swiftly approaching to lead 'Tarrant' to his death. The Hat was disappointed to be sitting atop human hair once more instead of soft fur, but at least the Cheshire Cat was much more respectful toward it. As they were led into the stone area where the Hatter was to be executed the Hat observed the Red Queen on her balcony and the executioner's rather impressive axe. "I hope Chessur will be alright," it thought nervously as the cat bent over the stone.

The executioner moved to remove the Hat, but the Cheshire Cat refused, saying he would like to keep it on. With a shrug the executioner allowed it "as long as he could get to the neck." To the Hat's joy he moved its ribbons, thus preventing it from losing its two limbs. Then, the axe was raised high into the air. It came whistling down and sliced through the place where the 'Hatter's' neck would be, when the Hatter disappeared. The Hat could still feel Chessur underneath it, but he was invisible now. The Hat spiraled forward under the Cat's influence and soon spun in circles as it climbed into the air to the amazement of all. Oohs and ahs echoed around the area as the numerous observers followed the Hat with curious eyes. Before long the Cheshire Cat's head appeared and he wished a good morning to all as everyone gasped in shock. Soon the Hatter appeared to distract the Queen and the Cat was off with the Hat in tow.

They travelled about in the time they had remaining to them. Chessur treated the Hat to every luxury a cap could wish for. The soft fur and soothing massages of clawed paws were more delightful than anything the Hat had ever experienced. And what could compare to the respect and indeed love the Cheshire Cat showed toward his favorite accessory? The Hat was happier than it had ever been, but this bliss could not last long, for Tarrant would be missing it soon, no matter what the Hat wished.

Unfortunately, the Hatter reached the White Queen's castle far too soon and Alice began asking about the Hat's whereabouts. Chessur, who had been floating in wait nearby, turned himself invisible and carried the distressed Hat back to its owner's hands. Then, he of course turned visible again to make a little pleasant conversation with Alice. The Hat was fuming, and yet sad. It was sitting in the hands of a person it could never love, with the cat it wanted mere inches away. Too soon Chessur reached out a longing paw, which passed tenderly over the Hat's leather as he said, "Goodbye, sweet Hat."

If it could, the Hat would've sobbed. Tarrant's protective grip did nothing to assuage its heartbroken depression. The Hat knew that Chessur would return for it. It could feel the bond they had made. If only a few hours could create feelings like this, imagine days, weeks, months. The Hat knew they were destined for each other, and when the Cat returned to claim it the Hat would come willingly. It was only a matter of time, and that was one thing the Hat had plenty of.


End file.
